The ParaNet Files
by KisameHoshigaki257
Summary: A story of the have-nots of the Dresden Verse, ParaNet Agents, demi-gods, holy warriors, and those who don't always make it to Chicago, but still have to face all the nasty things that go bump in the dark. OC's. Inspired by the Dresden File Books & RPG.
1. Rite Dead

Author's Note:

First off, I don't own the Dresden Files. If I did, we'd probably never get the books published and they would be no where near as good. I wish to thank Jim Butcher for creating my favorite series in the world, and letting me play in it.

Second, I will be completely honest, this is all pretty much Original Fiction, with Original Characters. You'll see references to larger events and people, but as a rule, it will just be the people I've created. More importantly, this is the story of some of the little people.

The idea behind this story and the ones I hope to follow it with, is three fold. First is the idea of the ParaNet, and what it does and those involved. Ever since the idea formed of the ParaNet, there has been a veritable gold mine of stories about the have-nots of the Magical World, and what they had to deal with. The second is the publication of the Dresden Files RPG, and my desire to actually run in a game where it was about the ParaNet and the missions they would face. I've actually used the books for the RPG to help me create these characters and even to play out some of the scenes. It keeps one from godmodding their OC's very well, when you have to deal with dice and physical limits. The third part is that, having no luck getting a game, I set about to write the ideas down, with my own Characters.

Will Harry and Crew show up in these stories? I honestly can't say. It would be my dream to see my characters and their stories in print someday, so here is a place that can they can grow. They may meet the Chicago folks, and we'll see what fun comses of it. This is a fanfiction, just one a little different than is perhaps normal. I know that most people aren't fans of OC's in their Fan Fic, and I'm one of them. But I ask, read with an open heart, for there are those in the Dresden Verse whose stories are calling out.

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><p>Chapter 1: Rite Dead<p>

ParaNet Agent Gunnar Anderson's casefile:

Sometime in Spring.

I stood on the steps of the building and frowned. People passed by, a few giving me odd glances, but mostly ignoring me. I might not have been the most usual of sights, but i was far from the most unusual.

The Knox county courthouse brought all types. Even those like me, six feet tall, dark of hair and light of eye, wearing a short sleeve shirt decorated with an angular piece of art, black jeans, messenger bag, using a cane and looking displeased to be there.

Idly my fingers reached up and rubbed the Mjolnir that hung from my neck. It was a simple one, made of pewter or steel, I couldn't remember. The little hammer of Thor, Norse God of Thunder, drew a few more stares, but none that looked at with recognition.

With a sigh I marched up the stairs. I wasn't here for any legal reasons, thank the Gods, nor for illegal ones. Rather, I had been called to deal with something along the lines of pest control, except you couldn't really call Orkin for this kind.

My name, to those few that knew it, was Gunnar Anderson. I'm what people would likely call a hedge wizard or a focused practitioner. More precisely, I'm a Rune Caster, one who can read, write, and do magic with the ancient Germanic and Norse runes known as the Futhark. Casting, conjuring, creating, enchanting, and much more were all things I could do with my little mysterious letters. While not as powerful as some of the Wizards that walked this little blue world, and the Otherworld next to it, I liked to think I was nothing to trifle with.

The problem was that there were beings with both great and small amounts of power that liked to trifle, and not all were as lucky as I in terms of knowledge and power. Even I wasn't the strongest of people, just a little more learned in my area. Recent events had shown that those beings with a grudge against mortal born with the talent were all too willing to hunt us down. That had been a couple years back.

Since then, due in part to the efforts of a couple of the aforementioned Wizards, and a large number of us hedge wizards, kitchen witches, focus practitioners, and so on, a group had formed so that us "little fish" could band together and take on that which wanted to eat us, both figuratively and literally. The Paranormal Net, or ParaNet, we were called.

And that was what brought me to the Knox country courthouse. As one of the more talented and powerful members in the area, I tended to take a more active role in missions, including combative ones. Not because my skills were necessarily more combative, but because even if my magic slinging was slowed by having to paint, draw, or inscribe the runes in order to use my powers, I managed to be inventive enough to make it work in a world where speed and power were of the two deciding factors in who managed to live.

That and there was no one else within a hundred miles this week. Knoxville might be the third or fourth largest city in Tennessee, as well as home to its University, but we were still on a premium for people gifted with talents that lent themselves to ParaNet missions. In fact, in the entire state, there was only about seven or eight of us who were part of the ParaNet and could function with semi-autonomy in regards to some of the lesser threats. Generally, we all teamed up , and even then occasionally had to call in one of the perhaps half dozen full wizards that lived in the US, only three of which were of any use in a fight. All of whom had been drawn away, leaving me to deal with the current situation.

I drew up to the security station and tried to hold back my grimace. Nothing drew attention from armed cops like acting as if you were not happy to be there. As I got up there, I handed over my cane and messenger bag, as well as the Mjolnir necklace and a couple rings that were on my fingers. I managed to pass through the metal detector without it going off. While not as powerful as a full blown wizard, I could still mess with technology if I wasn't careful, though generally it was only when I was empowering runes or using them to cast spells. I could even get a computer and internet to work for me most of the time, though I was far from tech savvy and had to find a way to shield most of the electronics with things like lead, aluminum, and some special runes that absorbed magical energy rather than projected it.

The contents of my messenger bag drew no real looks, but then several of my interesting items weren't in there due to where I was at. A rune carved dagger that could let me open up doors to the Otherworld, for instance. Mostly what was in there at the moment was a small wooden box that held a brush, some ink bottles, pens, and markers. A notebook with rip out sheets, a bag of semi-precious stones carved and painted with Runes, another small box of river rock covered in runic designs like the one that graced my shirt, and lastly some slips of paper covered in more runic designs.

I silently thank the Gods that no one apparently knew what my stuff was or could be used for. If they had, well, it would have been like walking in like that guy in the computer move, right before he blasted apart the lobby.

I retrieved my items and put them back on, the rings drawing no real looks despite their own runic markings. Quickly, but not so quickly as to draw attention, I left the security station and made my way deeper into the building. No one glanced after me.

No sooner had I rounded the corner than a hiss drew my attention. I recognized the young woman waving me over form a couple of the ParaNet meetings and made my way over. She was about a foot shorter than me and probably could have been a knock out if she'd bothered to style her hair and wear something other than garments that could be only generously described as a cross between mousy and frumpy. The crocheted cat on her sweater didn't really help. I would have remarked on wearing a sweater in the early summer months, but I was already regretting my short sleeve shirt in the hyper cooled air of the building. Financial crisis or no, apparently city officials weren't willing to give up their icy comforts.

A more suspicious person might have wondered if there was another reason to that.

Her name tag read Maggie in big, bold, black letters. She looked up at me from behind thick glasses, eyes filled with relief.

"Thank God you made it," she said softly, hand clutching a rather large crucifix that hung onto her chest, "It's still happening, we might be able to catch it if we hurry."

I nodded and silently motioned for her to lead on, trying to hide my feelings. I wasn't a fan of the Cross. Oh, it didn't affect me like it would a creature of the supernatural, holding me at bay or warding me off. No, rather it tended to fill me with smoldering anger.

Perhaps I should explain. I was what some, myself included, would call a Heathen. It's like a Pagan, only a lot less cuddly, and that was saying something in some circles. I walked with the ancient Gods and Goddesses of the Norse and Germanic people. Odin and Thor and Freyja and a couple dozen more. My beliefs weren't the source of my magic, but they did run alongside it, and when you when you walked with the ancient Gods and Goddesses, well, you tended to get touchy about those that tried to suppress, destroy, and slander your Godkin.

Still, I wasn't here for that, I was here because for the last week, ghost had been appearing in the basement and more deserted areas of the building. This actually is a lot more common than one would think. Lots of people met there ends here and such building tended to gather a natural energy from those that came here. Power, from those that wielded it, as well as anger, fear, pain, suffering, terror, and rage from those who found themselves either on the receiving end, or begging for that Power to be used to make up for some wrong done to them. Try focusing next time you go in a court house, and you will feel that fear that comes from facing those who claim to be the law.

I didn't like it when people insisted they had power over me, and there were few places where that was done more than in a court.

So ghosts were not a rare thing in old buildings like this. The problem was that not all of these ghosts were old, nor were they of the guilty. In fact, it looked like there were about four new ghosts that had appeared in the last month. All of them were young women, and to the slightly trained eye of Maggie here, looked like they had met their end at either the hands of a mauling, or a very dark ritual. Hence putting word to the ParaNet for someone to check it out.

The basement itself was used mostly for keeping records, which I figured was what most such places were used for. Likely it was called something original like "The Crypt" or something. Maggie couldn't have been in with the popular crowd here if she spent enough time here to see ghosts, but then perhaps she had enough talent to attract them. That didn't strike me as a good thing, since she didn't have the presence of someone really able to defend herself. One of the other ParaNet members had told me that Maggie had almost no ability to ad when they'd thrown up the wards for her home

Still, my sense did prickle at the small hum of power that often accompanied a being from the supernatural. Sure enough, rounding a stake of shelves, we spotted what I'd been called here for. The ghost of a young woman floated slightly above the floor, eyes gazing vacantly at a box on one of the shelves.

Most ghosts tend to be moderately harmless, though they all have the potential to do damage, it just depend on how much. That said, there weren't really a lot of ways to affect a ghost, and generally they were only useful after you had its attention, which could only really be gotten by either messing with whatever caused it to be there, or by using its Name.

Names have a power all their own. Know the name of a thing and you have power over it. Be it demons, ghosts, spirits, people, doesn't matter, having the name of something allowed you to lean about it, hunt it down, and so on. Having its Name, its True Name, allowed you to control it. That isn't as useful as it sounds, because the high and mighty wizards decided that anyone that controlled another got to lose their heads.

But this ghost was nameless to me, and to Maggie. Now, things that are "real" have the ability to affect a ghost. Holy water probably could work, thought that was more spiritual. Running water would ground it out, but I doubted I could get away with busting a water pipe in here. The floor was carpet covered in concrete, which meant I was away from using earth. Still, if I was going to do that graveyard soil would be best. Fire was a bad idea here, even if I could get it to affect the ghost.

Still, I wasn't here to get rid of the ghost, not yet at least. No, I was here to discover why there ghost was here in the first place. More importantly, I was here to find out if it was a recent addition and for was reason. If it was a byproduct of a violent death, I might need to find out who had done it, if it was part of a ritual to create ghosts and then use them for something, then I would either have to take care of it myself, or contact the Wizard nominally in charge of the ParaNet so he could handle it.

That was one of the main reasons to tap me for this mission, since such a large part of it was investigation. That's not to say that I was trained to investigate and others weren't, but rather that my brand of magic lent itself to such a thing. The Runes I primarily used were the Elder Futhark, a series of twenty-four Norse letters that had been in use long before the Christ god was heard of in the land of Europe.

The Runes themselves were more than a writing system, the Runes were a form of magic all of their own. Only the Hebrew aleph-bet came close, and even then, didn't have the utility of the Runes. For in addition to being a letter, each Rune was also a Mystery. That's what Rune meant, same as Arcane in the Latin; Mystery. There were several collections of Runes, the most common being the Elder and Younger Futhark, the latter of which consisted of sixteen runes. I used the Elder because it gave more variety and precision.

One of the most basic uses of Runes was for divination, and I had a special set dedicated to that very purpose. Reaching into my messenger bag, I pulled out a crimson drawstring bag I used to hold them and opened it, running the Runes through my fingers before letting three gather in my fingers and drawing them out. There were as many ways to read the Runes as there was the more famous Tarot, and what matters most is that you have the question and meaning of the layout in your mind as you drew and cast.

"I call upon the Norns to show me how this ghost came to be," I whispered softly, setting the semi-precious stones on the floor and evening them out, left to right. The one on the left would show me the issue or situation, the one in the middle that which ran against it, and the one on the right would show me the result.

On the left was the rune _Teiwaz_, which look like an upwards pointing arrow. It was named for Tyr, Norse god of war, justice, and sacrifice. In the middle was _Wunjo_, shaped like an angular P, which meant joy and harmony. On the right was _Hagalaz_, shaped like an H with an angular cross bar, and meant hail storms and wild power.

Though it was vague, and I could easily draw more to clear things up, I could already guess what had happened. The girl was likely a sacrifice, brought here by something close to her heart, and the result was power. The kind that comes with human sacrifice.

The next key would be to find out what the sacrifice was for. There were lots of ways to use them, from divination to empowering an object, yourself, or someone else. There almost as many reasons and ways as there were people. To know more, I would have to find out where this girl had been killed, and why. First, though, I wanted to know why she was staring at that box.

Reverently I packed my runes away and drew out the small wooden box filled with inscribed river rocks. These were covered in what were known as bind runes, another form of runic magic, and made of combined runes forming a single design. Carefully, I drew out one of my stones which I had created to act as a tracking spell.

Since all my magic has to be done with runes, I can't just whip up a spell like a wizard or other talents might be able too. So instead I create bind runes, combining the core ideas of the different runes to shape it into something more complex. They required a deep understanding of the runes, but were a bit easier than galdor staves, which were bind runes that were a lot more artistic and decorative in look. Galdor staves were harder to decipher and thus defeat since the meaning was hidden.

Walking slowly over to the ghost, I tied a string to the stone and as I reached her, I let the bind rune swing through her ghostly body, gathering some energy. She made a low noise but didn't react. The stone, on the other hand, started pulling away. I stuck the string in my teeth and pulled out a pen and notebook, jotting down the name on the box she was staring at: Jenny Cardigan.

Since the ghost wasn't hurting anything, yet, and I couldn't' pull the box out without disturbing her, I followed the stone. Working my way around the apparition as Maggie made a strangled sound. I ignored it and started weaving my way through the shelves and boxes, keeping an eye open for more apparitions.

It took Maggie all of thirty second to catch up with me. "Aren't you going to exorcise it?" she hissed softly, looking around to make sure we were still alone.

I shook my head, focusing on where the little enchanted stone was leading me. We went deeper in the archives and I wondered just how big this building was. Not to mention, how the girl had gotten here and killed without anyone being the wiser. I'm sure security did checks.

"She's not hurting anything, and she hasn't killed or attacked. There are more pressing things to worry about at the moment," I replied. Maggie didn't look happy, her eyes wandering around worriedly. Ghosts were scary, it wasn't a surprise she was upset.

Finally, we came to a wall in the back corner. The stone pointed towards it, but there were several heavy filing cabinets in the wan ad I bit back a silent curse. The bind rune, like most basic tracking spells, simply pointed in the direction of the object one was seeking, in this case the body of the ghostly young woman, but not the best way to get there. Still, this wasn't an insurmountable thing, I had a couple options.

The first was to triangulate the target. Draw a straight line from one point in the direction my little bind rune pointed, then move a certain amount of distance and take another reading, draw the second line and where the two lines met there you went. Taking out a small notebook, I drew I quick map and marked where the first line went. Then I moved down about thirty feet and repeated. The shift was noticeable, still behind the wall, but down more towards where my first reading was.

Maggie was looking more and more uncomfortable, which was when I heard the first ghostly moan. I turned and down the aisle way a second ghost had appeared, only this one was moving about in a lazy circle, passing through the shelving. I watched for a second, and drew out a piece of chalk and walked back to where the tracking spell had first led me too.

I could at least see if there was a secret door right there. The good thing about most secret doors is that they rely on the secrecy for security, rather than elaborate mechanisms to open them. This isn't always the case, but I doubt this as one of those rare cases where there were elaborate means needed to open it. Anyways, it was always simpler to try the easy ways first.

This time, instead of drawing a rune carved stone from my bag or box of bind runes, I simply took my chalk and drew a rune on the wall, _Dagaz_, which meant breakthrough and awakening. "_Aktivieren_," I whispered, pushing my will into the rune.

Nothing happened. No clicks or groans. Nothing shifted. Even if there had been a more complex mechanism, I should have gotten something, but my power had flowed into the rune, and then through the wall and hit nothing. Which in and of itself told me something. One, I was using the wrong wall, but more importantly I could generally feel something, but it was a void on the other side of the wall. No earth, no energy, no nothing.

I stood there for a moment. Most of my magic fell into the realm of what some call thaumaturgy, or ritual magic. It had a lot of Hermetic philosophy behind it, at least most thaumaturgy did. I used Scandinavian magic, which was a bit different from Hellenic magic, but there was a lot of cross over at this point when it came to the larger European magic system. As above, so below. It's a lot like quantum mechanics. The other branch of magic was evocation, and that tended to be the kind most people were familiar with, casting fire and howling winds. I couldn't really do that kind, useful though it was. Otherwise I could have blasted the wall down through sheer will.

The fact that I literally couldn't feel anything beyond the wall was cause for concern though. There weren't a lot of natural substances that could just create a void like that. It typically meant that it was man made and they didn't want any one finding it. I was dealing with something fairly dark here.

The second ghostly wail cut through the air and the room started to grow a bit colder. I rubbed the chalk rune out and turned. The ghost what had been circling was coming towards us, a rather attractive, middle aged woman who looked as if she had been opened from neck to navel, her eyes were cold and glittering with hate.

"I-I think we should go," Maggie whimpered.

I scowled, dark brows coming together. I wanted to know what was on the other side of the wall, and there any regular doors between what was here and what lay beyond, at least not in this room. To get through would take time, though, and probably involve doing thing that would damage the building, and frankly the last thing I wanted was to be brought up on domestic terrorism charges of something for blowing a whole in the basement of a government building.

And we had the ghost's attention. Good news was that I could affect it, bad news, I probably could affect it a lot less than I could affect me. Still, as the man with no name had, a man's got to know his limitation, and I knew mine fairly well.

And if you know a limit, you can figure out how to break it.

Most magic practitioners have their limits, either due to how much power they have of how much they've trained with it. But, since life isn't always fair and sometimes you need that little boots of power or control. To compensate, some of us make things like focus items, to help us boost and control our powers, or enchant items to act as spells in reserve.

As the ghost drew closer, I pulled out the long wooden box from my bag that held inks, pens and a galdor-stave decorated paintbrush. I took out the brush, dipped it in some black ink, and began to paint a bind-rune on the ground, taking my time, focusing my will into stroke, to create a design I'd developed to trap a ghost. No sooner had I finished and stepped back, than the ghost hit it and howled with fury as it stood frozen in the air.

The bind rune called on the powers of ice and earth, binding it much the way that graveyard soil could and freezing it there. The ghost kept screaming, thrashing about in its prison. Normally it might have been able to bust free, but my focusing brush hit it with double my normal level of power.

Still, the way the ghost was thrashing about, it wouldn't hold for much longer. The brush might have helped strengthen the binding, but the ghost was tearing through it like a shark on a surfer. Yet it wasn't focused on me, but rather behind me. I turned and followed its gaze to find Maggie standing there, looking angry and frightened.

"What are you waiting for!" she said, her voice high and thread, "Exorcise it! Banish it!"

My eyes narrowed. Something didn't feel right about this. Subtly, still kneeling, I let the tip of my brush drag over the floor, making another rune behind me. I looked from Maggie to the ghost, and back again. By right the ghost should have ignored us, and it really should have been focused on me since it was my magic that trapped it, but instead it focused on Maggie with homicidal fury.

Still, the ghost was not friendly and I had no doubt it would do its level best to kill me one it got out and dealt with Maggie. We could run, but I wasn't sure how far we'd make it. I could leave Maggie to it, but that wouldn't go down well, especially since all I had was a bad feeling and no proof of anything wrong. My best option was to get rid of the ghost.

Moving quickly, I dipped my focusing brush into another bottle and let the black ink was right off, then dipped it into a bottle of red ink and started painting runes swiftly on the carpet. Strike a blow for anarchy.

Colors were important, in the Scandinavian magic, black absorbed energy, and red projected it. So the first bind rune I painted to hold the ghost was absorbing her, and these would allow me to project energy into her. I made a rough circle of them around her, making eight in all to complement the ninth in the center that was holding her. Nine was the number of completion in the Norse way, just as seven was for the Jews and Christians. With that done, I growled in German and Old Norse, words meant to focus and shield me from my power. The runes blazed with light and the ghost screamed as the energy swirled into a vortex around her and sucked the ghost into the earth. For a moment, I thought I caught the image of a tall woman, half her body pale and the other half deepest black-blue, reaching out for the spirit and taking it.

I felt a shiver run through my body.

The runes blackened and turned to ash, burned by the power that flowed through them. All that remained was black soot on the carpet.

"Wow," Maggie said, "You were a good choice."

I sagged on the carpet and tried to catch my breath. Using that much power was hard. The runes helped and drew on the magic of the nine worlds, but it was still my will and effort that guided it and controlled it. I probably had one more spell I could work before I either started hurting myself or needed to rest. I dipped my brush in the cleaner and whipped it clean.

"What do you mean?" I asked, packing my brush back into the bag and slipping the strap over my shoulder. I played up my exhaustion a bit, but it didn't take much.

"So strong, so cunning," Maggie said, her voice going from mousy to something she probably thought was seductive. It needed a bit of work. "With your power I will be able to truly begin, heathen."

Something clicked, the bad feeling growing to a certainty. "It was you, wasn't it?" I asked, gathering my will and focusing on the rune I'd painted when I first got my bad feeling.

Maggie scowled. "Too smart, I'd heard you were supposed to be an idiot," she snarled, pulling a .38 out from the filing cabinet beside her, "But then I didn't need you for your brains, just your power."

"We all got to have a rep," I said, and mind tended to be someone a bit out of it and foolish. "Mind telling me why?"

"Power," she said, "I need power. My God commands that a witch not be allowed to live, and I shall carry out his word. But I need more power in order to stand against the likes of you."

"So you use human sacrifice?" I asked, calmly, tiredly, not a threat. "I thought there was a little thing from your god saying thou shalt not kill."

Her eyes glinted, not with madness, but with worse, true faith in what she was doing. Faith has a kind of power, and I could no more call her mad for believing than I could myself for my own faith in the Gods and Goddesses of my ancestors.

"Sacrifices have to be made in the war with the Devil!" She snapped, "Their souls were blessed by the Lord and they are in heaven with him. I honor them as martyrs for the cause!"

Faith, taken so far. Most people weren't like that, but there were some who believed so strongly it passed reason. I had felt that draw myself. The desire to throw one's self so completely into that path, because of the feeling that one was surrounded by enemies, and you just wanted to see you and yours make it through to the end. I found that I couldn't really blame her, facing a reality where the things that one was said were evil seemed so powerful and to be laughing at you and your beliefs, or were saying you were the evil ones. Part of me realized that the two of us might not be so different.

But she had killed, and killed with and for magic. It went against the laws, and as one working for the ParaNet and the mighty high-brow wizards brooked no dark magic without coming down hard on everyone, I had to stop her. And I was her enemy, and while I could understand her, I had no doubts about where I stood. I wasn't going to let her kill me.

"The ghosts?" I asked.

"A side effect, one I hadn't anticipated," she said, waving the gun in my direction. "Perhaps I did the ritual wrong, or messed up a bit on my casting, letting their energy bleed off from priming the pump, so to speak. They were going to give me away, but they were enough to draw you here. And now, all I have to do is place you on the alter and all that power of yours will flood into me.

"All these women, all this black magic," I said, "For what? Is it worth all this evil just to do good?"

"I must fight the forces of evil," she said, her words rang with true faith, "It is with noble intentions and for the greater good of all."

I wondered if I could really argue the point. Such a debate had happened since the dawn of time. I wasn't any closer to solving it.

"You think the other won't notice that you got a lot more powerful and I've vanished?" I asked. I had a shot at stopping her, but I had to be careful.

"I'll tell them the ghost killed you," she said, "As for the power, they won't know until it's too late and I've already taken their power, and I'll keep going until I'm strong enough to wipe you devil worshiping witches from the face of God's earth! Starting with you!"

I thought about saying something trite, but smart talk isn't really one of my skills. It always falls flat. So instead I focused, determined to win.

"You're a witch too." I said.

Maggie laughed. "I've been washed in the blood and forgiven by God," she said, "You'll not provoke me like that."

"I have Gods too," I said, "and killing me will only send me to the battle halls of Freyja and Odin. You think I fear death when I will spend my days surrounded by kin, feasting and fighting with them till Ragnarok comes?"

"False gods!" Maggie shouted, cocking her gun, "You delude yourself! You will burn in the fires of Hell!"

"Poor lost child, stolen from your people," I said softly, "You should be so lucky as to see Hel."

She screamed, raising the gun and moving forwards. As she drew closer I slammed my will into the rune and shouted, "_Isa!_"

Instantly, ice formed out of the air, surrounding her. Done normally, it would have made a wall of ice, but with the added power of my brush and my intent, it formed a circle around her, trapping her gun hand in the foot thick ice. The air trapped inside chilled, sucking the heat from her as quickly as if she'd been in the tundra.

I thought about breaking the Law, of letting the ice take her life, but I didn't want to lose my head, so I had the ice crush her hand and gun, then fade away. Maggie fell to the floor, shivering as the air rushed back in. I didn't have to tie her up, she wasn't going anywhere.

I went upstairs and tipped off the people that there was a young woman down there in medical trouble. It was easy to vanish in the chaos that followed, but I watched as they bundled her into an ambulance, a small tracking spell in her pocket if I needed to find her. She wasn't going anywhere soon.

An hour later I had a pay phone and managed to get in touch with the Wizard in charge of the ParaNet. No praise was given, nor asked for, just the assurance that he would be here soon to deal with the situation. He was a decent fellow, unlike so many.

By nightfall, Maggie was taken care of and word spread through the ParaNet.

Midnight found me back in the County building. I'd had enough rest and gotten more of my gear and was back in the basement. I set about working into the room on the other side of the wall. Finally, I managed to find the secret entrance and found where Maggie had worked her ritual. There was blood on the floor, but I didn't know if it was human. I figured it was, and that she had lured them here with promises of answers about their loved ones. I would never know for sure.

Was Maggie really a Christian, or just someone who went off the deep end and used that to cope? I didn't know. Most were not like her, but I suspected the seed lay in us all. Life is scary and we cling to things to try and get us through it.

What was clear was that Maggie had to have had help with the room. It was too advanced for someone of her limited power to have developed. I took pictures with a disposable camera, and hoped that they would come out okay. Tech is kind of funny around my kind. I disrupted the area, breaking things, releasing any energy stored. Ghosts were memories, but no the true souls, of people. Had those women been killed here and were to be used as power for the ritual, I had now freed them. I gave a silent prayer to Hel, Goddess of the dead, to guide them home.

I warded the entrance. If anyone tried to get in, they'd be met with a surprise. I'd come back tomorrow with the wizard.

There are many forces in the nine worlds and beyond. Some are good, others are bad, a few are ugly, and most are just trying to get by. Sometimes, people get caught in the middle, and someone has to stand in the gap.

I'm Gunnar Anderson. I'm the Rune Master. When there's no one else to stand up, I will.

End-


	2. Valknut Warrior

Author's Note:

The second in the Para Net files. This lovely young lady was inspired by two main things, the Knights of the Cross, and the appearance of Odin in Changes. I decided that if one Religion got to have a trio of holy warriors based on the Christian concepts of Faith, Hope, and Love, then I could be part of giving another Religion it's own set of holy warriors to do much the same thing, based on the Nine Noble Virtues of Teutonic/Scandinavian/Germanic Heathenism, namely: Strength, Courage, Joy, Honor, Freedom, Kinship, Hospitality, Industriousness, and Ancestry

At least, as I know them. There are others out there with similar lists, and they will be added in to the Jarls of the Valknut as it goes along.

* * *

><p>The school was on fire and I was trapped. I grasped my hammer tightly, glaring around me at the crow like beasts that surrounded me. They cawed and flapped their wings, razor sharp beaks stained with dried blood from past meals. To a one, they were six feet tall, dwarfing me by a good head.<p>

At my feet lay six of the foul beasts, heads and chest caved in with the imprint of my hammer. It was three feet long, and the head was a cross between a medieval war hammer and a modern sledge. Inscribed on each side of the head was the Valknut, a group of interlocked triangles. My clothing was in tatters, but my pale skin was largely unmarked from their claws.

I raised my hammer up into a guard position and spoke. "In the name of Odin Allfather! In the names of the Gods of Asgard! Leave this place, foul beasts of the ether!" I shouted, my voice filled with holy power. "Ye have no place in the realm of Midgard, to beset the children of the Gods and Man!"

One of the giant crow demons cawed and threw itself at me. I swung and my hammer smashed bone with the crack of thunder. It flew away like a comet, much to the anger of its fellows. They all charged.

How did I come to this point? How does a pretty, Scandinavian-American young woman, barely in her twenties, manage to find herself fighting demons armed with a holy hammer?

By having Faith. Not just any faith either, but faith in the Norse Gods of old. I was born Astrid Torsen, in a small village in Minnesota that was populated solely by Scandinavian immigrants. I grew up with the old stories of Thor and Loki, Odin and Freyja, Tyr and Fenris, of Asgard and Jotunheim, and I believed, and I never stopped believing. Not when I got to school, or to church, or anywhere else that challenged that the Gods of my people existed. I was their child, born of Ash and Elm, the first man and woman, and then the Gods and Goddesses who came down and interbred with us.

Two years ago, the Gods answered my faith. I'd been out in the woods when Bifrost itself had landed at my feet, and down the rainbow bridge came Odin, Thor, and Freyja. They told me that they had heard the prayers and oaths given by those bringing back the old ways. Yet with bringing back the old ways came trials and enemies, but they did not wish their children on Midgard to face these unprotected. So they had chosen me, for my faith and loyalty to my Godkin to be the first of a new order they were creating to guard their Midgard Children. The Jarls of the Valknut.

There were to be nine of us, to represent the Nine Noble Virtues of Heathenism. I was granted my hammer by Thor himself. He named it _Drengskapr_, Noble Courage, and changed me to ever be strong in the face of fear, that I might make others bold. And I was sent off.

I'd come to this school because I was called. The Norns, Goddess of Fate, were tasked with seeing that I got where I needed to be. Events would happen such so that I could be at a place at a time when I was most needed. I'd been driving across country on my first spring break away from home, when my car broke down with a flat tire. Right outside a dinner and car garage.

Deus ex machina is a way of life for me, now. I still have my free will and all, but I tend to go with where I'm sent. I've always been needed.

It'd been sitting in the cafe, picking my way through greasy eggs and sausage and wondering how it was that coffee never changed in these places, when I'd caught part of the hushed conversation up at the counter. Another young girl had gone missing at the high school. I could tell the people were scared, and guessed she wasn't the first. Most people could have someone in their area disappear and not worry too much if they didn't know them. It took a half dozen before people really started to get scared.

I got up, Drengskapr hanging off my shoulder by a leather strap in my hand, and went over. With a friendly smile, I looked at the overweight farmer nursing a cup of too roasted coffee. "I hate to interrupt, but I couldn't help hearing that someone was missing. Would you like an extra person to help you look for them?" I asked sweetly.

His eyes locked onto my chest for a long moment. I have the bust line of a WWII pin up girl and the muscles that would make Xena wince with jealousy. Swinging a giant hammer does that to a girl. Did wonders for my metabolism though. A gift from Freyja, Goddess of battle and beauty.

His eyes stopped in confusion at the silver Mjolnir pendant hanging from a thick silver chain around my neck. I doubted he knew what the little hammer was, or what it meant. The symbol of my faith, as much as the Valknut on my hammer was. Finally, his eyes met mine with a look of pensiveness that was all too familiar to me.

"Ain't really no point in looking," he drawled out, hopelessness filling his voice. "Girls are gone, five so far. We've done scoured the entire area each time. Ain't a hollar or cranny we don't know about in these parts, and we ain't found a hair."

I patted his shoulder. "I'm so sorry to hear that. How long has this been happening?" I asked softly. The entire dinner was silent, all of them watching me, most of them managing not to look at my low cut tank top and tight jean cut offs.

"Three months," the coffee drinking farmer said. "My girl was the third to go."

I bowed my hand and squeezed his shoulder. "There are no words," I said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Had I not been stranded here by divine means, I might have suspected the girls had just run away from this hicktown of hayseed and brawny farmboys. But I was here, for at least until tomorrow. I felt it in my soul that I was meant to be here and to help these people.

The dinner food was cheap, though I'd notice that cheap wasn't as inexpensive as it used to be. Times were hard, and people had to charge a bit more and tighten their belts to make ends meet. The food lay heavy in my belly and I felt the need to take a walk.

I pulled out my mini-player and slipped the earbuds into my ears, the steady beat of heathen metal started pounding its way into my head and my full hips started shaking in time to the beat as I strutted down the street. I think it had the same feeling for me that Christian radio did for believers in that faith. All I know is that it made my heart swell with pride and belief and the feeling of being closer to my Gods and Goddesses, my blood pump with righteous anger and power.

The school was on fire and I was trapped. I grasped my hammer tightly, glaring around me at the crow like beasts that surrounded me. They cawed and flapped their wings, razor sharp beaks stained with dried blood from past meals. To a one, they were six feet tall, dwarfing me by a good head.

At my feet lay six of the foul beasts, heads and chest caved in with the imprint of my hammer. It was three feet long, and the head was a cross between a medieval war hammer and a modern sledge. Inscribed on each side of the head was the Valknut, a group of interlocked triangles. My clothing was in tatters, but my pale skin was largely unmarked from their claws.

I raised my hammer up into a guard position and spoke. "In the name of Odin Allfather! In the names of the Gods of Asgard! Leave this place, foul beasts of the ether!" I shouted, my voice filled with holy power. "Ye have no place in the realm of Midgard, to beset the children of the Gods and Man!"

One of the giant crow demons cawed and threw itself at me. I swung and my hammer smashed bone with the crack of thunder. It flew away like a comet, much to the anger of its fellows. They all charged.

How did I come to this point? How does a pretty, Scandinavian-American young woman, barely in her twenties, manage to find herself fighting demons armed with a holy hammer?

By having Faith. Not just any faith either, but faith in the Norse Gods of old. I was born Astrid Torsen, in a small village in Minnesota that was populated solely by Scandinavian immigrants. I grew up with the old stories of Thor and Loki, Odin and Freyja, Tyr and Fenris, of Asgard and Jotunheim, and I believed, and I never stopped believing. Not when I got to school, or to church, or anywhere else that challenged that the Gods of my people existed. I was their child, born of Ash and Elm, the first man and woman, and then the Gods and Goddesses who came down and interbred with us.

Two years ago, the Gods answered my faith. I'd been out in the woods when Bifrost itself had landed at my feet, and down the rainbow bridge came Odin, Thor, and Freyja. They told me that they had heard the prayers and oaths given by those bringing back the old ways. Yet with bringing back the old ways came trials and enemies, but they did not wish their children on Midgard to face these unprotected. So they had chosen me, for my faith and loyalty to my Godkin to be the first of a new order they were creating to guard their Midgard Children. The Jarls of the Valknut.

There were to be nine of us, to represent the Nine Noble Virtues of Heathenism. I was granted my hammer by Thor himself. He named it _Drengskapr_, Noble Courage, and changed me to ever be strong in the face of fear, that I might make others bold. And I was sent off.

I'd come to this school because I was called. The Norns, Goddess of Fate, were tasked with seeing that I got where I needed to be. Events would happen such so that I could be at a place at a time when I was most needed. I'd been driving across country on my first spring break away from home, when my car broke down with a flat tire. Right outside a dinner and car garage.

Deus ex machina is a way of life for me, now. I still have my free will and all, but I tend to go with where I'm sent. I've always been needed.

It'd been sitting in the cafe, picking my way through greasy eggs and sausage and wondering how it was that coffee never changed in these places, when I'd caught part of the hushed conversation up at the counter. Another young girl had gone missing at the high school. I could tell the people were scared, and guessed she wasn't the first. Most people could have someone in their area disappear and not worry too much if they didn't know them. It took a half dozen before people really started to get scared.

I got up, Drengskapr hanging off my shoulder by a leather strap in my hand, and went over. With a friendly smile, I looked at the overweight farmer nursing a cup of too roasted coffee. "I hate to interrupt, but I couldn't help hearing that someone was missing. Would you like an extra person to help you look for them?" I asked sweetly.

His eyes locked onto my chest for a long moment. I have the bust line of a WWII pin up girl and the muscles that would make Xena wince with jealousy. Swinging a giant hammer does that to a girl. Did wonders for my metabolism though. A gift from Freyja, Goddess of battle and beauty.

His eyes stopped in confusion at the silver Mjolnir pendant hanging from a thick silver chain around my neck. I doubted he knew what the little hammer was, or what it meant. The symbol of my faith, as much as the Valknut on my hammer was. Finally, his eyes met mine with a look of pensiveness that was all too familiar to me.

"Ain't really no point in looking," he drawled out, hopelessness filling his voice. "Girls are gone, five so far. We've done scoured the entire area each time. Ain't a hollar or cranny we don't know about in these parts, and we ain't found a hair."

I patted his shoulder. "I'm so sorry to hear that. How long has this been happening?" I asked softly. The entire dinner was silent, all of them watching me, most of them managing not to look at my low cut tank top and tight jean cut offs.

"Three months," the coffee drinking farmer said. "My girl was the third to go."

I bowed my hand and squeezed his shoulder. "There are no words," I said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Had I not been stranded here by divine means, I might have suspected the girls had just run away from this hick town of hayseed and brawny farm boys. But I was here, for at least until tomorrow. I felt it in my soul that I was meant to be here and to help these people.

The dinner food was cheap, though I'd notice that cheap wasn't as inexpensive as it used to be. Times were hard, and people had to charge a bit more and tighten their belts to make ends meet. The food lay heavy in my belly and I felt the need to take a walk.

I pulled out my mini-player and slipped the ear buds into my ears, the steady beat of heathen metal started pounding its way into my head and my full hips started shaking in time to the beat as I strutted down the street. I think it had the same feeling for me that Christian radio did for believers in that faith. All I know is that it made my heart swell with pride and belief and the feeling of being closer to my Gods and Goddesses, my blood pump with righteous anger and power.

My steps took me down the road until I reached the school. It was a small building, I doubted they had enough students to not be mixing their grades. I could feel the aura of something tainted around it. I didn't feel good or evil, my people didn't really have a concept of evil back in the day. But I could feel the rotting stench of death coming from the building.

A raven flew from the top of the building and cawed, glaring down at me. I gave it a wolfish grin. Ravens were sacred to Odin, likely the Allfather was watching this place. And if he was watching it, probably a good bet there was something interesting going on.

The school itself was closed, but I managed to find a side door that wasn't locked. Sunlight streamed through the windows, so I didn't have trouble seeing my way. It was still early in the day, which made me kind of surprised that no one was here. I guess after five girls vanished in the building, they weren't taking chances. I could feel the death in here, and it was not honorable or glorious, it was terrible, filled with fear and despair. But there wasn't as much as I would have expected, and some of it was old. Very old, but very potent.

This was not ordinary school. Something had happened here, years ago. Something bad. I turned off the music pounding in my ears and shifted my grip on Drengskapr so I could swing it in a sharp blow if needed.

I searched the school completely, and the only things of interest I found were a lot of what appeared to be bird droppings on the roof, and a locked door to what looked like a basement. I felt called to it, but at the same time knew now was not the time to go down there. Besides, I was dressed in some rather skimpy clothing and flip flops. Not the best outfit for fighting beasties and baddies.

Back at the garage, I found out my car would be ready sometime tomorrow morning. I thanked the mechanic, a rather portly man that had an even harder time not looking at my chest. I suppose I should be grateful for the things. Nobody notices the giant hammer.

"There's a hotel down the road you can stay in. Tell them Eddie sent ya, if Mitch is at the desk, he'll give ya a good deal, little missy," the Mechanic said with a leer.

"Thank you," I said, opening up the trunk of my car and grabbing a Rubbermaid tub and lifted it with one hand. It rattled and clanked.

"Whatcha got in there, Missy?" Leery Eddie asked, "Kitchen stuff?"

"Armor," I smiled sweetly, hefting it against my back and walking out like it was nothing. I was telling the truth too. A full jacked of chainmail, leather vambraces studded with steel spikes. Shin guards of leather backed with metal plates, and all of it lined with about three layers of Kevlar. There was even a Kevlar and steel helmet of the Viking style, and too complete the outfit, a silk cloak of ebony covered in Norse Heathen symbols, knot work, and art. A girl has to have style, after all.

I drew some looks as I walked down the street. Like I said, I'm pretty built in all the right ways, and farmers tended to have an appreciation for strongly built women that the rest of society didn't. Sometime I envied those little waspy women their slender builds. My thighs could crush a keg, but I looked very damn fine, and I wasn't over built, just well-built when it came to muscles.

Mitch was working the desk at the hotel, and he was just as bad about the leering. Till I let my Rubbermaid box hit the ground. It crashed loudly and the floor shook. His ruddy flesh paled and his eyes snapped from my large breasts to the large plastic crate.

"I'd like to get a room," I said sweetly, voice firm with conviction, "Eddie said you could get me a good deal for the night."

"Um, yeah, sure!" Mitch said, quickly digging around. "That' will be thirty," he said, handing me a sheet of paper to sign. I smiled, batted my eyes, and looked sweet. I might have leaned forwards too, showing off my chest and letting Drengskapr's handle thunk heavily against the desk.

"Twenty!" he squeaked.

"Thank you, you're so kind," I said sweetly, passing him a twenty I pulled out from my bra and handing it to him.

"N-no problem!" he said, eyes bugging out of his head.

I turned around and squatted, hefting up my Rubbermaid tub with little effort as I stood, my hammer and the room key in my right hand. I swayed my hips on the way out of the office.

"Sweet Jesus," I heard him mutter, I smirked. Jesus had very, very little to do with it.

"Sweet Freyja," I thought to myself. She's the one that helped me bloom into the woman I was now. I offered up a silent thanks to the Goddess of Battlefield Beauties and made a mental note to get some fresh strawberries to offer her soon.

The mid afternoon sun hung high in the sky as I entered my hotel room. Twenty bucks might have been overpaying, but at least it looked clean. I shut the door and turned on the TV. Nothing much was on, just the usual insipid dramas or bad news that filled the world. I left the news on. It reminded me of why I was doing what I did, and what I was chosen for.

I checked over the gear in my tub first. I might be a holy warrior of Asgard, but that didn't mean I could be lax about my armor. My hammer might be unbreakable, but my armor was of mortal make. Then I checked the jeans and long sleeved shirt, and denim jacket I wore under my armor. It got hot, but it was better than being unprotected.

After that, I grabbed a quick shower and a catnap. It never did to face the forces of chaos when you were tired. The bed was old, but it did its job. I'd slept on worse.

I awoke to the setting sun and braided my hair, then donned my armor. I wished for a moment I'd grabbed more stuff from my car, like the wooden case that held a drinking horn and a bottle of mead.

Instead, I settled on making the sign of the hammer before me and grasped my hammer Drengskapr. "Hear me, Gods and Goddesses of the Nine Worlds. You child seeks to do battle in your name. May she be granted victory and honor, to defend this Midgard and its people. Guide my hammer oh Thor, God of Thunder, and may it strike as Mjolnir does. Watch over me, Odin Allfather. Defend me, Lady Freyja. Hear me, Tyr, Frigga, Balder, Skadi, and all the others. They daughter goes to war in your Names!"

With that I slammed the butt of my hammer against the ground and let my words fly on my faith. I felt them leave in a rush and I knew my Godkin had heard and would answer. With that, I walked out of my hotel room, hammer hanging over my shoulder.

I was a sight, as the evening wind blew down the street and caught my cloak, billowing it out behind me. My chainmail rattled and clinked, held tight to my body by the leather belt buckled tight around my trim waist, a pair of seaxes tucked in it. A Valkyrie marched down the main street and people turned to stare.

"Did one of them Ren fairs come to town?" one of the locals asked. I ignored them. My steps were sure. I was a daughter of Asgard, chosen to defend the Heathen people of Midgard, and these people too. Their God had not come to their aid, but I had. Perhaps my deeds would be made known to them and they would know it was the Gods of their ancestors that looked out for them more than some dessert god from a land not their own.

The school looked ominous for being so small. I heard the cawing of crows coming from it. That explained the bird droppings. I wondered if they were the ones causing the disappearance or were guarding that which was.

I found the door I'd used earlier to be locked. It was a heavy wooden one, but I shouted and kicked the door with all my might. It cracked and hit the floor with a boom. I raised my hammer and moved in.

And the crow spirits jumped me, forcing me into one of the class rooms, which brings me back to where I started.

The crows swarmed, and I screamed a battle cry, blonde hair flying about as swung Drengskapr with all my might. Thunder sounded with the cracks of bones. "In the name of Asgard! In the Names of the Nine Worlds! By the Nine Noble Virtues! Begone from this place! Murder no more the children of this place!" I shouted, my voice like Heimdal's horn.

Power flowed out from me and struck them all, a crimson aura that crackled light lightning. The bird spirits writhed in agony as they died and I brought my hammer down on the ground. The very foundations of the building shook as if Mjolnir had struck the building rather than my hammer.

I didn't pause for a second to gloat. Instead I marched to the door to the basement and brought the hammer down. Moonlight framed me as the stench of rot and death and fear rolled up to meet me.

"By the Gods and Goddesses of Asgard!" I shouted in clarion tone, stomping heavily down the stairs, "Thy wickedness ends this night!"

First rule of being a holy warrior? Learn to talk Shakespearian. Sure it makes you sound like a large ham and that you're chewing the scenery, but damn it sounds cool, even when my high, girly voice does it.

At the bottom of the stairs I found the nests of the Crows, and in three of them were young women, clearly in bad condition and being used for the intent of making more baby crows. The other two lay dead and rotting in the corner.

Over them stood an even larger crow, this one at least nine feet and more bird than man-shaped. Its scream of rage slammed into me and rolled off. I raised Drengskapr high.

"Foul creature!" I shouted, "I would have words with thee!"

"Words?" the Bird screamed, "Death!"

It charged and I shouted another battle cry, dropping the hammer down on its head. It hit and bounced, but I gave it no time to attack before hitting it again, knocking it away from the girl. It screamed in rage and pain, but I marched over to it, raising Drengskapr over my head.

"No more shall you harm my people!" I screamed and dropped the hammer.

The girls whimpered as I came over to them. I couldn't tell if they had already been used by the beasts, or if they were still waiting.

"Are you alright?" I asked softly, kneeling before them. They nodded slowly, and I took that as a good sign. "I'm here to take you back home."

The next morning I loaded my car up and gave Eddie the Eye a smile. "Thank you so much for fixing my car," I said sweetly.

He looked at me, to where the girl's families were still celebrating the return of their daughters, or morning their loss. The bodies of the crow spirits had vanished, as such things are want to do.

"What are you?" Eddie asked me.

I stepped into my car, Drengskapr resting in the passenger floor. Smiling, I looked him in the eyes. "I am Astrid Torson, and I am a Jarl of the Valknut, tasked by the Gods of Asgard to defend this realm of Midgard and protect their children from all that would see them enslaved, killed, or worse." I said, my conviction ringing through my voice.

Then I drove off into the farmland outside the town, knowing that my deeds would be remembered this day.


End file.
